dream chronicles

21 Jan 2020: entry 19

The beginning I don’t remember, but the latter part of the dream this morning that I do remember: I was with a small group walking back to our hostel; the guy leading us was G-, he worked at this hostel I stayed at in Porto, so I guess we were in that city. He took us on a detour under this bridge whose arches looked like the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco, except it’s smaller, and there’s a pedestrian way on the lower level. I guess G- was thinking we could take that pedestrian way back, but the middle part of the bridge was already flooded, water from the river had shored, or has been shoring up halfway through the bridge. G- took a picture and went back. I wanted to take a picture, too, of the arches of the bridge from the lower-level view with the water slowly flooding in. But then this young woman (who reminds me of this girl I met in Lisbon) came forward. I’m not sure what she did exactly, maybe blocked my view, or nudged me as she walked passed, but I couldn’t take the picture and had to wait. When she walked back out and I had time to take the picture, the view was no longer there. We were suddenly inside some house, there was a wall in front of me, I sensed there’s a private room behind the wall, considered going in to find a window and finally take the picture, but decided not to intrude. I let it go and went back out. . .

On the way out of the house, I walked through a short corridor, there was some clutter on the floor, but the place wasn’t super messy. I think it was a man’s house, with all the wood paneling, little piece of paper, maybe receipts and coins on the floor. And I think there were also teddy bears on shelves? After the corridor I reached I guess the kitchen, where the small group the dream started with was sitting around, snacking on something I think. I sat down with them. To my left I find a bag inside which I see a loaf of sliced cinnamon bread. It looked very good, appetizing. I offer a slice to a woman in our group, she reminds me of someone I met in Porto.

Entry 18

Note to self: if you’re having space cake to help you sleep, it’s almost impossible to track your dreams the following morning.

Here’s one I wrote from 06 Sept 2019, Friday:

I was teaching a class of adult men, black men, I guess. I asked one student to fill in what’s missing in a sentence: “He was a ___.” The exercise was not really well constructed, but the student filled in “informed”. . . I tried to explain that the indefinite article “a” requires the next word to be a noun, not the past participle verb. . .

Then the next scene I find myself tightroping across some dark abyss. I guess my partner had just crossed the abyss. I look down, it’s total darkness, but I’m not scared. My feet are tied or encased in these shoes to the side of the tightrope, and the shoes are linked to the tightrope via some metal bar which just rolls across the tightrope so I’m not really walking across, there’s another rope above my head and I’m pulling myself across with my lower body just rolling across. I let go of the rope above and slowly fall to the side. . . I guess I thought it was safe. . .

And then I’m in another class, the same classroom as before, but the students are all women, white women, I think, or at least there’s this one white female student who translated a whole line from another exercise. The class was then over, students were about to leave, and I was telling them to wait while I hand out, or really still to just prepare the homework for them–writing on the board a prompt to continue the exercise, translating, maybe freewriting a few more sentences in response to what we did. . . Now that I think about it, maybe the classwork we did was too easy.

And then the group changed to a hiking group. People were outside, I think, waiting while there was still one guy inside, maybe the hiking leader. . . I ask him about a map, I’m not sure. . . I fuss about my shirt and decide to put on an old, blue thermal henley shirt, short sleeved. . .

19 Jan 2020: entry 17

I was entering a house, which in the dream I knew was my house–looked like one of those small, low-income houses in southern California with metal-screen doors for security. Before I entered, I heard or knew there was an intruder inside. I go around to the backyard and enter the shed where, I knew, the intruder would have his hideout. I find his little hideout in the corner behind a wall, and I myself hide behind there, waiting for him. When he came back to the shed, I try to jump him, but I seem to be moving in slow motion. He dodged me and picked up a small knife, which I never saw when I entered the shed, from the sandy ground. He came at me slicing the air with the knife. Again I was still slow moving and there were instances when the knife actually grazed my clothes and skin. To my surprise, I didn’t get cut, there was no blood and I was fine. I took off one of my shoes and used it to punch at him and swing at his hand to dislodge the knife, successfully. I threw down the shoe and kicked him in the groin. He buckled to the ground and I shoved a knee into his nose.

The next dream I think I was watching t.v., some sort of news about the death of Muhammad Ali. One reporter was this older guy who seemed very somber. Maybe too somber that you can tell he was sad inside about the boxer’s death. Another reporter, a younger guy, exuded a mournful tone and demeanor, so much so that he seemed to be performing for the camera. There was more that happened but I’ve forgotten it now.

18 Jan 2020: entry 16

Dream this morning: I walk into some cafe with one or two people I know, not friends, but just acquaintances. It felt like some cafe in Lisbon, near that Carmo ruin/cathedral. I run in to some people, other acquaintances. I greet them warmly, I think, but there’s some awkwardness. They didn’t expect to see me, but they also seemed like they didn’t want to see me. I notice that the people I was with originally when I walked into the cafe are gone. I’m still waiting to order at the counter. I realize the wait-time is probably going to take very long. The other awkward acquaintances were also gone. I guess because I realized there was no one to sit with or hang out with at the cafe anymore I just decided to walk out. It’s daytime outside, and there were others outside walking across in front of me, a group of people that headed to my left. I walk straight ahead, marvelling at the Carmo arches around me. This outside part of the cafe seemed like a little park or courtyard. There’s an old lady watching me. I walk back. Come to think about it now, I didn’t really know where to go, but in the dream this wasn’t a concern. I saw others taking a different alley, and thought about going that other way, thinking about where it would lead.

Entry 15

Couldn’t remember the dream from this morning, so posting one I wrote on 05 September 2019, Thursday:

This co-worker of mine from — was speaking to me; I’m lying down and she’s looking down to me, her dark hair falls around her face. . . She’s doing something, reaching for things while she’s talking to me. I get the sense that there’s a vanity mirror? Or some cabinets around and she’s reaching for things in the cabinets. She’s asking me about some camino, and my view of her, looking up to her, switches to a view of a map as I explain to her the route that I’d be taking. . . I think it was the Portuguese coastal route.

16 Jan 2020 Thurs: entry 14

Rough getting back to the swing of things after the holidays. I actually remember wanting to jot down a few dreams about a couple of weeks ago or so but just got lazy or was still out of sync. Most of them I’ve forgotten already, but there was one remarkable, though not sure I’d ever chronicle here for reasons you may guess if you read it: a woman was on top of me, her hair all disheveled, riding me. She comes to a shiver and I unveil the strands of hair from her face and see her, recognize her, smiling. . .

Today the dream seems blander, but still obscure, mysterious. Even more so as I think I’ve had this dream before, being at a hotel, cold, looking to get breakfast. I know I’m not a guest at this hotel, but I still wanted to get breakfast here. I come in to a room that was like an ante-chamber to the kitchen, or the dining hall. There a cupboards, cutlery and cups and teas arranged, I remember thinking I could eat a scone but didn’t see one. There’s a faceless older lady, I think, who ushers me into the dining hall. No one there yet. I walk around to see if there’s any food set out already, but don’t see any. Suddenly there’s a small group I didn’t see or hear come in, but two or three were getting ready to sit at table. I go to someone who seems like the leader of the group, I had this impression that they were some sort of trekking group. I ask the leader/guide if I could pay for breakfast here even though I’m not a guest. I think I tried to explain that the hotel I’m staying in doesn’t serve breakfast. She said yeah, giving me directions that I just have to go to the front desk office, which was out in another building around the corner. She said something about how I might not have to pay the tax as I’m already at another hotel. I was a little peeved that I’d have to go out in the cold again, and said maybe I can eat first and then go out to pay. Not that I was very hungry. I remember thinking I really just wanted to talk to the other trekkers.

02 Jan 2020: entry 13

I was walking around the edge of a swimming pool. I look up, I’m at some hillside estate, there are multiple pools around, and I’m trying to get to the back or to the lower level of the mansion overlooking the estate and all the pools. It’s daytime and there’s some kind of festivity going on, some people in the swimming pool, but others socializing, mingling, with drinks in their hands and wearing formal attire. I know I’m not part of the party, that I actually work for the owner of the estate, but today is my day off. Just needed to keep a low profile, trying to get something, I don’t know what, in the lower level.

I reach the lower level, a storage room. People are also there, standing around with drinks, chatting. A VIP guest, like a CEO/bossman that works with my boss the host of the party, saw me and pulled me aside. Told me he thinks his daughter would be interested in meeting me. I replied yeah, that sounds great. The VIP said he would set up the meeting, and then let me go. One of my coworkers overheard, walked beside me and quietly asked why I agreed to meet that boss’s daughter. He is like a mafia boss, could be dangerous, or worse, she could be ugly and fat. I just shrug my shoulders, think to myself I’m glad a father thought me worthy of his daughter.

Then I see this pair of green rock climbing shoes. They’re not like my old black ones, these in the dream seem brand new with small, silver-slit air vents on the side. Even though I didn’t know what I was looking for in the beginning of the dream, I knew this was it now and so just I grab them, happy to have found/discovered them and that I’m ready to go.

The next scene I find myself in a bus looking out the window. There’s Viana do Castelo, I think, the grand church and albergue by the side of a hill.

31 Dec 2019: entry 12

Because I’ve been traveling, my writing routine is a bit disrupted, but I did catch a dream this morning, though quite fuzzy now:

I greet friends, flatmates maybe, as they arrive climbing up a staircase in what feels like my apartment though it doesn’t look like the one I have in the outside “real” world.

It felt like greeting old friends, warm, affectionate hugs. The last woman I greeted, a cheek-to-cheek greeting, the kiss lingering longer than usual. She whispered something to me, I’ve forgotten what it was. I do remember her bare shoulders, her softness.

23 Dec 2019: Entry 11

The dream this morning reminds me now of similar scenes from the new Netflix series “The Witcher,” which I finished binging on yesterday, Sunday.

I was atop a ridgeline looking down, armies about to charge us or are already charging below. It doesn’t seem to me now to be a very organized attack, but it’s probably not the beginning of the charge as there’s already much chaos below. There’s a group of enemy captains I see clustered in one area. Not sure how I know they were of higher rank, but I remember seeing one of the captains was a giant, all of them shirtless, with spears, axes and swords, yet armorless white men. The giant’s charge killed one of my captains, and so I swoop down into the fight, towards the giant. We clash weapons. Somehow I thrash him on broken horse-carriages, and as he lies prone trying to get up on all fours I summersault above him, landing on his back and sinking a knife to the back of his head. A quick, clean kill, I thought in the dream or maybe as I was waking up.

Entry 10

From 03 Sep 2019, Tuesday:

Dissipated dreams too blurry to remember. . .

From 04 Sep 2019, Wednesday:

Was at some hotel lobby, waiting in line to check out. I was I guess waitng in line with a couple of fellow travellers, a former roommate of mine and her friend from Kenya. Then a white woman approached me, she had short, dark brown hair. She seemed happy to see me, walking towards me with a smile. I don’t know who she is, but I recognize her from another dream maybe. It was like we knew each other in this dream. She was pretty. She had lots of pimples on her cheeks, big ones, not bumpy, not pocked either, but red, like red flecks or freckles of blood. . .

When she reached me she started talking to me. I didn’t know, or don’t remember what her words were, but I remember they were in French, and I didn’t really understand what she was saying, or rather I couldn’t pick out and identify her individual words, but I still did understand her somehow, or got the gist of what she meant. I said to her, well, we should go out then, because I sensed she was saying we never go out. And then I kissed her on the lips. She was shorter than me–I sort of bowed and tilted my head to kiss her on the lips. Not a deep, French kiss. Nonetheless a soft one.

I didn’t linger. She was still and when I straightened back up I saw she was smiling again. My fellow Kenyan travellers were just looking at me blankly. Or maybe the one closest to the front desk counter smiled, somewhat quizzically, I think. . . The lobby felt busy, but it was just the four of us there with bags and luggages on the floor lined up to the counter.